Life, Redux
by element78
Summary: AU- Ianto Jones finds people, and Jack Harkness is next on the list. This time, though, they both might be getting in over their heads.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I had way, way too much fun with this. Am still having too much fun with this, as a matter of fact. Someone really needs to stop me. This is a piece of complete and utter crack, brought to you by I don't even know what. AU, obviously, and there will be Ianto/Jack goodness because I have been going through a slash dry spell and I'm tired of it.

I am, quite unfortunately, an American, so any sort of local assistance- store names, general geography, anything you can think of- would be greatly appreciated. Otherwise, I'll have to rely on Google, and god only knows how that will turn out.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p>The ringing of his phone drags him out of a blissful dream about absolutely nothing at all. Since he's too much a gentleman to say anything to the caller, Ianto Jones informs the phone itself of his extreme displeasure, using words that would have gotten him slapped had his mother been there to hear him. He gropes around over the edge of his bed, feeling around for yesterday's discarded pants, then leans over a bit too far and hits the ground hard. Then, and only then, does he finally go about the process of actually waking up.<p>

He finds his pants, left puddled on the floor to be dealt with later, and fishes out his phone. The screen lights up with Tosh's name, and instantly all irritation- most irritation- dies.

"Yes, Tosh?" he greets her, inflection carefully controlled, as he eyes his bed in contemplation. If the world truly is a fair, just place- well, he would be out of a job, but still in bed, and right now he's considering it something of a fair trade.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Ianto," she says, her voice echoing oddly. "I know you only just got to bed, but I got a call from Andy again."

Ianto turns away from the bed's siren song and heads for the bathroom. There's a reason they're on a first-name basis with a good portion of the local law enforcement, a reason which has most likely been arrested once more for public intoxication and which will need fetching now that the police are done detaining him.

"Did you get your shipment?" he asks, since he's curious and she's said all she needs to. The light in the bathroom is harsh-bright and he squeezes his eyes shut against it.

"Yes, I did," Tosh answers crisply, sounding just a touch smug, and Ianto feels a smile cross his lips. Toshiko Sato is quiet and unassuming and unimpressive, and so many people believe they can walk all over her- and they can, to a point. It never fails to surprise people when they run headfirst into that point. Tosh fits nobody's mental image of a master hacker who has forgotten more about code and computers than Bill Gates would ever know.

He wonders what their newest suppliers had tried to pull, and how long they will last. It's getting to the point where only Ianto is allowed to speak to people, ever.

Tosh is going on, explaining the uses for the new gizmo she just got, and Ianto blinks at his reflection. The young man in the mirror looks tired, and pale, and perhaps a touch softer around the middle than he cared for. His eyes are old, though, old and sad. He reaches out and snaps the light off.

The call ends with Tosh hanging up quickly so she could go play with her new toy. Ianto debates for a while, then pulls on a battered old set of jeans-and-shirt rather than his normal suit. One last longing look at the bed, and he turns and heads out.

Two steps out the front door he walks literally right into a distraught-looking Rhys Williams. Almost before his brain can even identify this sudden roadblock, Rhys is speaking.

"I think Gwen is cheating on me."

* * *

><p>Ianto and Rhys had met at a local pub some five months ago. They had bonded instantly over ale and rugby. Ianto tells Rhys was it was like to be a Cardiff boy living in London, and never mentions why he came home. Rhys tells Ianto what it's like to be engaged to a woman who once put herself in the hospital trying to cook spaghetti. They've both driven the other home after a bit of accidental overindulgence, and on one of those trips Ianto met Gwen, a gap-toothed, shoulder-high fireball of a woman. He hadn't immediately taken to her, but that could have been due to her understandably annoyed reaction at her fiancé throwing up on her feet.<p>

Ianto offers to brew some tea, Rhys declines and requests brandy. Coffee is an accepted compromise. Ianto sets about making them some while Rhys collapses into a chair at the kitchen table.

"You hear about this all the time," Rhys tells the table desolately. Ianto moves around the kitchen as quietly as he can. "On the telly, and in the news. Famous people always breakin' up and all that. But not _us_. Not Gwen."

"What makes you think she's cheating on you?" Ianto asks, carefully, and sets a mug in front of his visitor. No cream or sugar, just a dash of brandy. Gwen is Rhys' whole world; under the circumstances, a little bit of liquid comfort wouldn't be amiss.

"She's staying out late," Rhys says, now talking to his coffee. "Can't give a good reason why. She forgot our anniversary. She's been getting new clothes, new makeup, prettying herself up. Which is good-" and here he's turning red, "that's great, but she's not- we're not- there's been no-"

Rhys had once given Ianto- and half the pub, probably - an alarmingly detailed account of the very first blowjob Gwen had ever given him. This sudden shyness is new.

"Anything else?" he asks, before Rhys hurts himself with his verbal flailing. Rhys finally looks at him.

"She mentioned this bloke a few nights ago," he says grimly. "Got real-" he widens his eyes, presumably in imitation of his fiancée's doe-eyed countenance, and waves his hands a bit. Ianto has absolutely no idea what it's supposed to mean, although he can guess due to context.

"Name?" Ianto asks, all business now. Rhys sits up straight and sets his shoulders back, happy to be doing something, even if that something will likely end in screaming and flying kitchen appliances.

"Jack."

Ianto pauses for a moment, waits. Nothing else is forthcoming, it seems. "Last name?"

"She never said," Rhys answers.

Ianto is apparently being extra-thick this morning, for he only just now realizes why Rhys is even here to begin with.

"But that's what you do, isn't it?" he continues, unknowingly confirming Ianto's sudden suspicions. "Find people. Right?"

Ianto pours himself another cup of coffee and adds a nip of brandy as an afterthought. He really should have seen this coming- you don't track down your pub-buddy at home to whine about a cheating fiancée. Not unless said pub-buddy works for a private investigator.

"More or less, yes," he says warily. Actually, the other two find the people. Ianto just acts as the buffer that keeps his two teammates- volatile and temperamental, as genius so often is- from having to deal directly with the rest of humanity.

_We don't do domestics,_ he ought to be saying. Looking at Rhys' hopeful, determined face, however, he finds he can't. Instead he pulls his mobile out of his pocket and dials a number by memory.

"Did you drive here, or walk?" he asks.

"Drove." Rhys finishes off his coffee in one big gulp. From the face he pulls, he evidently found the brandy. Ianto holds out his hand, and after a moment the keys land in his palm. At the same time, the ringing over the phone ends.

"Sorry to interrupt playtime," Ianto says. "But I have a favor to ask."

* * *

><p>"Pleasure to meet you," is the first thing Tosh says to Rhys. The second is, "We don't do domestics."<p>

She gives Ianto an unusually venomous look as she says this. It makes sense- the rule is as much Ianto's as it is the other two. The one time they repealed it and gave domestics a trial run, the couple had had a screaming match in the office that ended with the death of a marriage, a printer, Ianto's favorite coffee mug, three chairs, and Ianto's own personal record for number of stitches gotten in one go.

They'd met at Roald Dahl Plass, not too terribly far a walk from either Ianto's flat or the office. That Tosh had even bothered coming out here was more an indication of her affection for Ianto than anything else.

"Have you considered just talking to her?" she adds, and they both look at her a bit blankly. She looks from one to the other, then sighs in that exasperated way women do when they find themselves running headfirst into the brick wall of male stupidity.

"I just want to know who he is," Rhys says steadily.

"Why?" Tosh demands, then does the sigh again. Ianto imagines she's feeling very disappointed by the Y chromosome right now.

"Maybe, if I could talk to him-"

"Right. Talk." She laughs a little, somewhat bitterly. After Ianto fled London with his tail set firmly between his legs, he's never been one to ask about past relationships. Still, it's painfully obvious someone burned Tosh, and badly.

"Please." Rhys can, apparently, be startlingly vulnerable when he wants to. Right now he's looking at Tosh like she's got his life in her hands- or his heart, which is rather closer to the truth. Tosh makes the mistake of meeting his gaze, and Ianto can see the moment she capitulates.

"I still think it's a bad idea," she mutters, but something in her tone betrays her, and Rhys sweeps her into a brief, tight hug. Ianto puts some distance between them, just in case.

Twenty minutes later, Rhys is driving away and Tosh is flipping through her PDA, looking over the information Rhys gave them on Gwen.

"I should make you lead on this," she says to Ianto, half-serious. Ianto shrugs, looks out over the bay. It's high summer right now, and Cardiff is absolutely gorgeous. For a moment, Ianto feels a rush of affection for his city, so strong he can almost taste it, and it surprises him. In London, he hadn't really missed Cardiff, hadn't gotten homesick.

_But you came back_, a voice whispers in the back of his mind. _First second it started getting ugly in London, you came running back to Cardiff. Maybe you never got homesick cause you knew you wouldn't be gone long enough for it to be worth the bother._

"I'm just the teaboy," he says to Tosh, who smiles a little. Then her face sharpens and she looks up at him over her glasses.

"By the way, where's Owen?"

"…ah," Ianto replies, after almost a solid minute, as he remembers the phone call that first started this day. "Knew I was forgetting something."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow. Just… wow. You people amaze me. This weird little fic is getting more attention than I would have dreamed. I love you all.

Never in the history of TV has there been a more inconsistently written, Mary Sue character than Gwen, except perhaps Jennifer Keller in Stargate Atlantis. However, I am a firm believer that canon happens for a reason- Children of Earth and Miracle Day notwithstanding- and so do not approve of blatant character bashing. For all her faults, Gwen has her strengths as well, and I will try to do both justice.

Also, through methods I am not entirely clear on, Tosh managed to finagle her way in as the boss. I kind of like it. Unfortunately, it does mean the wonderfully awkward crush she has on Owen has to go.

* * *

><p>Gwen Cooper- soon to be Williams, if she hasn't already cocked it up- has an average, boring life. Worked at various shops when she was a teen, some mid-ranking manager now in the business world, tried out for the police but didn't make it due to bad eyes. Marrying her childhood sweetheart come winter, doesn't necessarily impress his mother but at least she's Welsh, cannot cook worth a damn but enjoys a good rugby match just as much as her beau. All of this information comes from a variety of sources- some were public records, some were hacked by Tosh, and some were stories told to Ianto.<p>

Reason Number Two for why they don't do domestics has an opinion, of course.

"Completely boring," Owen declares when Tosh gives them the compiled recap of Gwen's life. "I say, let the poor girl have her fun while it lasts. Pretty soon she'll be married to vanilla, popping out a couple of kids with ridiculous names- no offense," he adds to Ianto, who very clearly is meant to take offense, "- and regretting every last minute of her miserable life. So why take away what little bit of excitement she'll ever get? And, more importantly, are we even getting paid for this?"

Owen Harper- Doctor Owen Harper, thank you- has doubtless been the reason for more than one self-imploding marriage. Ianto has never asked why a born-and-bred London doctor has chosen to move to Cardiff and spend his days tracking people down. He's also never asked why Owen seems determined to sleep with the entire population of Cardiff, although he does feel free to comment on that one.

"She had her chance to have fun," Ianto replies. "Then she got engaged."

"And it won't kill us to do this for free," Tosh adds. And it's true- Ianto has come into the game late, long after their little organization had been set up, and so has no idea what has reduced these two brilliant people to this, but it _works_. They're not going to be retiring at forty, but they're turning down clients and working their own hours.

"All I'm saying is, we might not want that sort of a reputation, okay?" Owen says soothingly, probably feeling like they're ganging up on him. Which they are, to a point. The best Owen and Ianto have ever managed to achieve is a passive sort of antagonism, give or take the passive.

Tosh taps a few keys on her computer, and the big screen on the wall lights up. In the top left corner is a picture of Rhys and Gwen, below it, all the details of Gwen's life they currently have amassed. In the top right corner is a question mark.

"So we need to find Jack." Owen flicks a balled-up scrap of paper at the screen and hits the question mark dead-on.

"Eventually," Tosh shakes her head, pushes her hair out of her eyes with an impatient hand. "But first, we need to find out if she's actually having an affair, or just trying to encourage one."

"Does it make a difference?" Ianto asks, stirring sugar into two of the mugs of coffee before him. He had hired on as a cross between a butler and general dogsbody, and his most important task had quickly become keeping his coworkers caffeinated at all times.

"It might," Tosh answers quietly, and Ianto realizes that she's still thinking someone should just talk to Gwen. Maybe, in the great mad rush to solve the problem and find their man, maybe they are ignoring this first and most obvious step.

Ianto hands out the coffees. Owen takes his and stares into it, as if the secrets of the universe can be divined in its depths. He had learned, very early on, that the teaboy was by no means afraid of crossing the sacred line of messing with a man's coffee. Whenever he was being especially tetchy, he would study his coffee closely before drinking.

It rarely helps, and it fails to do so again, when he takes a tentative sip and finds the sugar in his coffee is actually baking powder. Ianto and Tosh talk around his spluttering.

"I need to get the Tarpon files sorted," she says to him. "Do you think you can handle this?"

"This? Yes." Ianto gives her a slight nod, then slips a quick, pointed glance at Owen. Tosh sees it, understands his meaning.

"You two will just have to learn to get along," she says flippantly. Behind him, there comes a sloshing noise, and Ianto turns to see Owen has just dumped his contaminated coffee into the long-abused pot of gardenias on the front desk.

Ianto looks back at Tosh, one eyebrow rising. He's never known her to be intentionally cruel. As if sensing his thoughts, she pats his arm reassuringly.

"Good luck."

* * *

><p>The table in their conference room- the war room, as Owen has dubbed it- sits eight people. Ianto takes the seat farthest from the door, just to the left of the head of the table. Owen sits at the opposite end. They're close enough to not be shouting across the table at each other, but only just.<p>

Ianto has had exactly one long-term, serious relationship in his life so far, and that ended- well, it didn't end with an affair, so he has zero experience in this matter. Owen, on the other hand, has played all three parts in this triangle at least once. Though he's wise enough not to actually say so, Ianto yields to Owen's expertise.

"Her friends know," Owen says. "They always do. They just won't talk to what's-his-name. And if we ask them about it directly, they'll go running off to tell Gwen."

It occurs to Ianto, not for the first time, that Owen might not be the most unbiased source of information on female behavior.

"So what do you suggest?" Ianto asks blandly. He's being careful, very careful, to mind his tongue and his manners. Owen is not exactly happy right now, since he's been saddled with both this case and Ianto, while Tosh is off doing real work. Technically speaking, Tosh and Owen are partners. However, everything- building lease, credit card- is in Tosh's name, which rather puts her one up over Owen. In short, while Tosh doesn't boss him around, Owen doesn't get paid without her say so.

Wise woman, Ianto reflects. It takes a skilled hand to keep Owen reigned in, yet still efficient enough to warrant the exasperation of having him around.

Owen chews things over for a long moment, gaze blank and fixed on some interminable point over Ianto's left shoulder. After a minute he shakes himself awake.

"Getting pretty and staying out late means clubbing. Probably where she met Jack, since there's been no other major change in her routine. And since women never go clubbing alone…" he sits up a little, even offers Ianto a smile as his train of thought chugs uphill to the inevitable conclusion. "We talk to her friends, find out which clubs they go to, figure out which one she met Jack at and see if he's a regular. We find him and problem solved."

"That almost sounds like an actual plan," Ianto says after a moment's consideration. "One that could potentially involve one of us going to several nightclubs a night, for several nights in a row."

"Yeah, well, might as well get something out of it, if we're not getting paid," the doctor says with a shrug. It's so very Owen that Ianto smiles in spite of himself.

"And how do you plan on getting her friends to tell you all this?"

"With a little bit of charm," Owen answers smugly. Ianto has never known Owen to possess even the tiniest speck of any sort of charm, but he supposes the doctor has some stored away somewhere as a fallback plan in case sarcasm and arrogance don't do the trick.

Ianto watches as Owen pulls out his PDA, complete now with the information Tosh had gathered, and tugs self-consciously on his sleeve. He'd been planning to get Owen out of jail, deposit him at the office, and go straight back home. Had he known that would be the start of what looks to be a very long day, he would have put on his normal suit, not an old shirt and pair of jeans so well-worn the hems are fraying and the knees and inner thighs are worn thin.

"You can handle this alone?" he asks, standing when Owen gives a positive-sounding grunt. "I'm heading out for a bit. Call me if you need anything."

"Pick up something to eat, I haven't had anything since lunch yesterday," Owen replies without looking up.

"Pick it up yourself. I don't have the card." Buying meals for this overgrown toddler is not on Ianto's list of responsibilities.

He sets the coffeemaker to brewing a new batch of liquid gold before heading out, passing Tosh at her computer as he does so. She's completely wired in, chin on her hand and eyes locked on the monitor. A grenade could go off under her chair and she wouldn't notice. He says good-bye anyway, because it's the polite thing to do. Then he heads back to the war room and sticks his head in.

"And if she didn't meet him at a club?"

Owen looks up at him, irritation written broadly on his face. Then he smirks.

"Then it's your turn to come up with something that's almost actually a plan."

* * *

><p>The lift dings just as Ianto is straightening his tie. He dips his hand into his jacket pocket, produces his visitor's badge- which he most certainly is not clipping to his suit- and steps into the hallway beyond.<p>

For all he works in an office building now, it's been a while since he's seen a proper cubicle farm. That's one thing to be grateful for, at least- the company he keeps might be a bit lacking and the hours are somewhat erratic, but his job is never boring. He picks his way through the pseudo-labyrinth with its chin-high walls and finds his goal after only two false turns.

The office door is closed and the lights off. Ianto glances in through the little stack of windows beside the door, sees a darkened computer, a stack of files, two framed pictures with their backs to him, and other typical office clutter. He turns away, telling himself as he did that it was only a half-formed idea anyways and he doesn't have the foggiest clue what he'd been planning on saying, and nearly runs smack into the office's inhabitant.

"Oh, sorry!" Gwen yelps, instantly stepping back, dark eyes sliding over his face without catching on any little snag of recognition. "I wasn't paying attention-"

She stops mid-sentence, her eyes locked on the badge in his hand. Then her gaze snaps back up to his face, and _there_ it is. "Ianto?"

She looks somewhat happy to see him, under the shock, which is a good sign. The first and last time they had met, almost a month ago, Ianto had introduced himself to her over the heaving form of her fiancé. He can understand how that would be a bit off-putting.

"Didn't mean to startle you," he says smoothly.

"You didn't, I just-" She takes a few steps forward as he moves back, leans against her office door. "I didn't recognize you at first, in that suit. You look…"

"Older?" Ianto finishes for her, since she seems unsure of how to complete that sentence without causing offense. "That's the idea."

Gwen opens the door, reaches around awkwardly to turn on the light without turning away from her visitor. Ianto takes a measured breath, plotting out his words. He has always been an extraordinarily gifted bluffer.

He has no intention of asking her about Jack, or her clubbing, or anything along those lines. He just wants to properly meet the cause of all this fuss and form his own opinion of her.

"I'm afraid I made a poor impression, when we met," he says. "I have some free time this afternoon, and thought I might try again. Perhaps over lunch?" And here he gives a pointed look to the white container in her hands. Ianto is enough of a veteran of late nights and cheap food to instantly recognize reheated takeaway when he sees it.

Whatever else she is, Gwen Cooper is nobody's fool. She smiles warmly at him and snaps the light back off.

"I'd love to."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Oh, lookie here, three chapters in and someone finally deigns to put in an appearance. Would have been four if this chapter got any longer, so unfortunately lunch with Gwen got pitched out.

Short author's notes, running out the door right now.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p>"You had lunch with her?"<p>

"Yes, Owen. Lunch."

"I think you're missing the point of this whole thing."

"'Having lunch' isn't code for something in your world, is it?"

"Why are we even doing this? All we're doing is swapping out Jack for the teaboy. How is that progress?"

"It was _lunch._ She's allowed to have friends."

"Oh, so you're friends now?"

"Excuse me!"

Both men swivel their heads around to peer at Tosh, who sweeps an irate glare back and forth between the two of them.

"If you're going to yell at each other, could you at least do it in the same room?"

Ianto, standing in the coffeemaker's little niche, looks at Owen, in the war room doorway. They've been talking over Tosh's head the whole time. It's not unusual- most of their communication is done long-range. On the other hand, they rarely have this much to say to each other.

"Sorry, Tosh," Owen says, in a tone that suggests an insult is following, but Ianto reaches him in time and all but pushes him back into the war room proper.

Once the door is shut, Ianto expects Owen to start in again, but to his surprise the doctor remains thoughtfully quiet.

"What did you two talk about?" he asks finally. Ianto finds his arms folded defensively across his chest and forces himself to relax.

"The weather. Restaurants. London. The Prime Minister. How Rhys is no longer allowed near the pub on karaoke night. Growing up in Cardiff. My sister." He pauses, thinks it over. "That's about it."

"Damn," Owen says after a moment. "You're almost as boring as her."

Ianto graciously ignores this.

"You weren't the only one to have a busy lunch," the doctor continues blithely. "I tracked down a few of her friends shopping on their break. Chatted for a bit, told them I was new in town and asked what clubs they thought were good."

"So when they see you there tonight, it won't look nearly so creepy," Ianto finishes. And this is why Owen is so good at his job - people believe him, even when he's blatantly lying. A doctor from London is supposed to be a respectable man. Only those close to him know him well enough to learn otherwise.

"Right. And since that's all we can do for now, I suggest we get back to our real work." And Owen slips past him, heading out into the main office and over to his desk.

It's not all they can do for now, but it's all Owen is willing to do. And since Ianto gains nothing by challenging him on that, he lets it slide.

He spends the afternoon doing his usual routine- fetching and carrying, organizing the paper files in their basement archive, making coffee whenever the grumbling between them starts turning into snapping. He has to go out and get them some more at about three, reflecting that it's entirely possible that he's a little too good at this part of his job, and wonders how Owen in particular even manages to sleep at night when he drinks his own weight in coffee during the day.

Tosh sends him home once he gets back and she catches him smothering a yawn. Once he might have argued, might have pointed out that some basic attempt at normal business hours might make them appear more professional.

Now, he does as she tells him without a word in protest.

* * *

><p>He dreams of fire and ash, of the taste of blood and tears, all blurred by the glistening grey of a rain-drenched London. Some of it is memory and some is merely a fertile imagination kicked into overdrive. It's a restless sleep, the kind where he sometimes wakes up to find himself curled up and shivering, smothering covers and pillows all pushed as far away from him as he can get. He's almost grateful when a pounding at the door drags him awake before he can hit that point.<p>

He's not so grateful when he opens the door and finds Owen.

"Didn't think you'd gotten the hint," the doctor says, painfully oblivious to Ianto's current mood, which is about half a step shy of justifiable homicide.

Ianto may not have gotten the hint, but he isn't an idiot either, and he can tell at a glance why Owen is here.

"I am not going with," he says instantly, and closes the door. Tries to close the door. Owen catches it just before it latches and pushes his way in. He stops three steps in, too far for Ianto to get rid of without some sort of physical confrontation, but not far enough to be truly intruding. Ianto folds his arms across his chest and glares.

"Let's be honest here," Owen says, a bit soothingly, finally realizing his life is in his hands. "If I go to this club, alone, I'll probably forget why I'm there."

"You want me to go with you so you can screw around and not feel like you're neglecting your job," Ianto translates flatly.

"Yeah, maybe I won't exactly be as focused as I would be if it were a real case. But I want to get this done." He looks at Ianto, an odd sort of sideways glance, seeing again what he had already dismissed. "And it'll probably help you to get out of here for a little while."

Ianto shakes his head a little and steps forward, trying to force Owen into a retreat. It might have worked with anyone else, but he sometimes forgets who he's dealing with.

"How old are you, Ianto?" Owen asks, stubbornly standing his ground. "Twenty-six? Seven? Is this what you want to do with the rest of your life?"

Ianto blinks and rocks back on his heels, startled by the question. Owen has never expressed even the tiniest amount of interest in his personal life, never asked about his past or plans for the future. They simply deal with each other in the present and let things happen as they will.

"No, it's not, trust me," the doctor continues grimly. "You need to get out, get a life beyond this job. So go get changed and let's go, and try to at least look like you're having a good time."

_Or you could just stay here, not sleep, and think about the good old days back in London._

Ianto shivers a little, shakes it off. He sighs and turns to head back to his bedroom.

"Give me five minutes," he calls back, and ignores Owen's smug smile.

* * *

><p>It's a bit too early for clubbing yet, but there's still a large crowd of people, and Ianto can feel his feet starting to drag. He considers telling Owen to grow up and do his job without fussing. Then he thinks of his flat, empty save for stale memories and vivid dreams, and decides he can suffer through this.<p>

Owen goes right up to the bartender, who apparently knows him by name- Ianto tries to be surprised by this and doesn't quite manage it. After a quick discussion, Owen ducks back over to Ianto.

"They haven't been here yet," he says. "I say, we give them an hour and if they're not here, we go to the next one."

Ianto closes his eyes and wonders if that's a headache he can feel brewing, or just a hopefully temporary contempt for the entire world.

"How many are on this list?" he asks, once he's sure the urge to throttle Owen has passed. It's an old friend, that urge, and he's well used to telling it 'maybe next time'.

"Three. Get something to drink, you look like you could use it."

He certainly needs it. He goes over to the bar, orders himself a scotch. Owen is in his element and loving it. Ianto merely stations himself at the bar and memorizes the pattern in the wood grain.

The hour seems determined to drag by. Ianto loses track of his teammate a few minutes in, and relegates himself to scanning the crowd for a familiar face and wondering why he thought coming along was a good idea.

"You look a little miserable," a voice says at Ianto's right elbow. He glances around, catches an impression of blue eyes and a sharp grin.

"Thank you, I needed that," he shoots back, a little sharply. The newcomer is American, by the accent, and standing close enough for Ianto to feel the warmth of his skin. His breath gusts across Ianto's neck as he huffs a quiet laugh.

"Yeah, not exactly my best line. He'll have another," he says to the bartender as Ianto tosses back the last of his scotch.

"No, he won't," Ianto says instantly, and the bartender freezes, a longstanding veteran of such wars of the wills, dark eyes flicking from one face to the other.

A bill appears over Ianto's shoulder. Ianto doesn't get a clear look at it, for as soon as the American says, "Keep the change," the bartender makes it disappear.

"Sorry, mate," she says to Ianto as she plunks a new glass down in front of him. He lets her take the old one and watches as she finds someplace else to be, for which he doesn't blame her. He then shifts his attention back to his drink until the warmth at his back shifts- not leaves, just moves beside him.

The American leans against the bar, sweeping a measuring look over Ianto. When Ianto finally deigns to look directly at him, he offers a big, flashy smile.

"Captain Jack Harkness," he says, and it rolls off so smoothly, almost all as one word, that it takes Ianto a painfully long moment to parse it out. It takes even longer to realize that he should be saying something in return.

"Ianto Jones," he replies, tilting his glass ever so slightly as if to toast their meeting. He starts looking around subtly, trying to find Owen. There is no doubt in his mind that this is the right Jack.

"Ianto Jones," the American echoes softly, like he's just been handed something beautiful and fragile, and Ianto blinks and looks round at him. The false smile has been replaced by something small and sincere and almost wistful. It's gone so fast Ianto wonders if he might have imagined it.

"Well, Ianto Jones, I didn't mean to intrude," he says casually.

Ianto should say nothing, should let him leave. He has a name, a nationality, and a description. He has everything they came for and more.

"You're not intruding," he says, and watches Jack's face light up with another grin. He settles himself into place, putting a touch of distance between them- hearing the warning hidden in Ianto's tone, then, and behaving himself at least a little bit. He orders himself a drink and glances over at Ianto.

"You here with anyone?"

"A coworker," Ianto replies, deciding as he says it to let Owen have his fun.

"Interesting distinction," Jack mutters. "Coworker, not friend. And they left you alone?"

"We don't actually get on well," Ianto admits easily. "I'm here mostly to make sure he gets home without getting arrested again."

Jack chuckles at that, starts to say something else, only to stop and pin his gaze on something on Ianto's other side.

"Not mentioning how I practically had to drag you out of you flat, I see," Owen says, and Ianto shrugs.

"Hey. Captain Jack Harkness," Jack offers, trying to deflect away from the imminent storm, and in so doing inadvertently says the worst thing he possibly could. Owen catches Ianto by the forearm and gives a strong tug.

"Owen Harper. Pleasure. If you'll excuse me, I need to borrow Ianto here."

They get four steps away, which is about as far as one needs to go for a private conversation in a busy place, and Owen releases him.

"Have you ever heard of conflict of interest?" he demands. "Professionalism? Ethics? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"Has any of it ever made a difference to you?" Ianto shoots back.

"So now you're modeling yourself after my life? Not the best choice there, Ianto. When I said get a life outside the job, I meant something a little healthier than that."

He sounds bitter, and not for the first time, Ianto wonders what happened to him, to do so much damage. They're all three broken people in their own way, he thinks. He already knows his own story, though, and rarely looks in the mirror, so he won't have to admit to the damage. Ianto Jones is a master of denial.

It's something of an unspoken promise that they don't ask each other about those things, so Ianto swallows the question. Instead he glances back at Jack and sees the other man talking on his mobile.

"This is a bad idea," Owen says sincerely, and when Owen is being the voice of reason, things have gone horribly wrong.

Not the first I've ever had, Ianto wants to say, but turns instead as Jack moves over to them.

"I've gotta go," he says, genuinely regretful. "It's been a pleasure." And he smiles again, catches Ianto's hand briefly with his own, then vanishes into the crowd.

"Good," Owen says after a long minute. "Case is done. We can go home now." He sounds underwhelmed by the prospect.

Ianto thinks of his empty flat, and the six months since he's had anything more than casual physical contact, and telling Rhys that they know who Gwen's been flirting with and Ianto can't really blame her for getting ideas. He folds his fingers around the paper Jack had passed him and tucks it carefully into a pocket. Then he moves back over to the bar and finishes off his scotch in one swallow.

He holds up the empty glass as the bartender approaches.

"Another one?" she asked, looking mournful, as if expecting this to cut into whatever tip Jack had given her.

"Make it a double," Ianto answers, and behind him Owen groans.

"This cannot end well," the doctor says to no one in particular, and Ianto can't help but agree.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I wanted this up earlier, but life intervened. Actually, Halloween intervened. See, normally I get about half a dozen kids coming by, so this year I got a pack of king-sized candy bars, just for the hell of it. Unfortunately it appears word spread about me and I got forty or so little visitors. I was up and down all night long, and got maybe two hundred words written in four hours.

Gwen returns in this chapter, as I felt she got cheated in the last one. And Jack will be back very soon, I promise.

* * *

><p>Ianto wakes to the sound of machinery screaming. He rolls out of bed, takes two steps, and promptly walks straight into a wall that wasn't there yesterday.<p>

He takes a moment to let his brain catch up as he blinks and looks around. Not his flat, he sees- back at the office. He'd been asleep on the abused couch in the break room. His head is pounding and he can taste stale alcohol and bile, and the lights are overly bright and seem to be attacking his eyes.

Before this day, Ianto has been hungover exactly once in his life. He decided then that he didn't care for the experience and has avoided it ever since.

The sound comes again and Ianto orients himself, following the noise into the main office. To his horror, he finds a ripely cursing Owen standing in front of the coffeemaker.

The coffeemaker makes an odd sort of stripped-gear clicking noise, and Owen scowls down at it. Before Ianto can reach him, he pushes another button, and another, and something goes _crack_ and a cream-colored stream of foam comes pouring out.

Twenty minutes and one and three-quarters mop buckets of foam later, there's stillness again. Both Ianto and Owen stand in the coffeemaker's niche and stare at the machine. The scent of coffee, overlaying something sickly sweet and burnt circuitry, sits heavily in the air.

The two men stare at the machine in a sort of horrified fascination, both wondering how Owen could so easily destroy this thing that was so vital to their lives. Ianto is vaguely aware that he should be furious right now, but he can't quite muster up the necessary energy, and so just stares dumbly at the mess.

"How?" he asks finally.

Before Owen can answer- not that there really is an answer to this- a soft beeping comes from the main computer. Ianto stays where he is, because moving is too much to contemplate now that he no longer has a disaster to avert. Owen goes over and switches on the monitor, then swears again.

"Tosh just signed in," he says. They lock gazes for a moment, long enough to impart the important message- every man for himself.

Owen disappears into the break room, no doubt heading to the small shower they'd had installed long before Ianto started working here, back when it became apparent all-nighters were going to be frequent. Ianto himself heads for the stairs, which sounds a little like death right now, but Tosh will be taking the lift and he needs time to pick up the pieces and reassemble himself as something resembling a human before he lets her see him.

He vaguely remembers Owen driving them back to the office last night, neither one of them in good enough shape to try for going home. He's not surprised to see the doctor had parked crooked, his car taking up two and a half spots. Ianto's own car, used only on the really rainy days, is still back at his flat. Normally he'd walk, but right now he's considering just going back upstairs and curling up under the war room table, where it's nice and dark and semi-quiet, at least until Tosh sees the mess they made and starts yelling.

That thought galvanizes him into action, and he starts walking.

* * *

><p>A cold shower does him a world of good. It certainly wakes him up, if nothing else. The coffee he'd set to brewing before taking his shower helps dispel the nausea and tame the headache. The suit he puts on is more like a suit of armor, rebuilding walls that had taken a beating the previous day, and he feels not only human, but like himself again for the first time in two days.<p>

He cleans up a little bit around the place, since he's been putting it off for a while now. His sister calls and he spends a good twenty minutes deflecting questions about his personal life while chatting about the mind-numbingly boring details of hers.

He's just convinced her that he really has to go when he stumbles over the jeans he'd worn last night. Just like that, the wall comes down, and he can think of nothing but Jack. He remembers the warmth against his back, and the mischievous grin, and the feel of that strong, callused hand wrapped around his. Being the sole focus of Jack's attention was intoxicating, and a bit overwhelming, and Ianto finds himself wishing last night had been allowed to play out to its natural conclusion, without Owen and phone calls interrupting.

As if sensing the treacherous thought, his own mobile begins buzzing and rattling along the kitchen table. Ianto catches it before it falls and spares a glance for the number. He blinks in surprise at the name that appears on the screen, and answers warily.

"I need to talk to you," Gwen says without preamble, and Ianto gets the vague feeling that he's in serious trouble.

* * *

><p>They meet at a coffee shop but don't actually go in. Gwen is wearing casual clothes today, and without her dressy heels, she barely makes it up to Ianto's shoulder. All the same, there's no doubt about who's in control as she takes him by the arm and steers him up the street.<p>

"What exactly do you do, Ianto?" she asks, sounding mostly curious, although there is a buried edge to her words.

"What do you mean?" he replies, glancing up and down the street.

"Your job. What do you do?"

"Make coffee, sort the files, make sure my coworkers eat and sleep fairly regularly," Ianto says with a one-shouldered shrug.

"And what do they do? What company do you work for?"

Ianto slides her a sideways glance. From his angle, all he can see is the top of her head, dark hair snapping in the brisk breeze. She's leading them up the street without any apparent destination in mind, just moving for movement's sake.

"It doesn't really have a name. If someone needs us, they already know how to find us."

Gwen nods. If she notices the deflection, she doesn't say anything.

"So, your coworkers. Is Owen Harper one of them?" When Ianto hesitates, she continues. "Only, he was talking to my friends yesterday, and then you both show up at the club last night."

She looks at him, and he knows deflection won't work this time. "Unfortunately, yes, I work with him."

They walk on in silence for a few minutes, both of them trying to figure out how to carry on with the conversation without divulging too much information. Ianto snaps first.

"I'm sorry if Owen lied to your friends," he says, planting his feet and hauling Gwen to an abrupt halt. She pulls away from his arm so she can face him properly. "But maybe if you tell me what you want…"

"How do you know Jack?" she demands, and Ianto blinks.

"I only met him last night," he says, all honesty.

"Don't lie to me, Ianto," Gwen says, more pleading than ordering. "You find people, that's what you do, you and Owen. Why were you looking for Jack?"

Ianto considers this for a moment, eyes fixed on the sky. She doesn't know, he realizes. She genuinely has no idea what's going on here, and she thinks it's a good deal more than what it is.

"Why does it matter to you?" he asks, and she stares at him. Stalemate- they both know something the other doesn't, and neither will divulge freely.

"Jack is a friend," Gwen says finally. "An old friend, and a good man, and I don't want to see him hurt."

Ianto accepts this with a nod. It's not the whole story, he can tell, but it tells him more than she might have wanted it to.

Someone is looking for Captain Jack Harkness, someone considerably more intimidating that Rhys Williams.

"It was Rhys," he tells her, because it's fair trade. Her eyebrows furrow in a questioning frown, and Ianto explains. "Rhys came to me, asked me for our help. He thought you were having an affair."

"With Jack?" Gwen asks, almost incredulous, and just like that Ianto knows she's already failed. She's taken a go at Jack and didn't get anywhere with him. "And he didn't ask me? No one thought to talk to me about it?"

Somehow, telling her that that had been Tosh's idea from the very start doesn't seem wise. Ianto shrugs helplessly.

"He was afraid to lose you, Gwen," he says, trying to keep her calm. The last thing they need is for Gwen to go stomping home to verbally eviscerate her fiancé. She doesn't seem too inclined to do so, though, for she's nodding before he finishes his sentence.

"I know, I know. I'll handle it."

"I would start with an apology," Ianto suggests softly, and Gwen looks at him sharply, before relaxing.

"Is that it, then? Just… because of Rhys?" She looks at him, watching him.

"As far as I know. If someone else is looking for Jack, they haven't asked for our help."

Gwen accepts this and gives him a smile, the first today. She steps back beside him.

"You look a little tired," she says, and just like that they've moved on and all is forgiven. "How about a cup of tea?"

"Coffee," Ianto corrects instantly. "Owen killed the coffeemaker this morning. I have no idea how he managed it."

She smiles again, and matches her stride to his, so neither one is leading.

Not for the first time, Ianto finds himself thinking that she's wasted in office management. She needs to be out _doing something_, he thinks, out there making a difference. She must be going quietly and steadily insane in that office of hers.

They reach the door of the coffee shop they'd met by, carried by casual chatter of a similar breed to yesterday's lunchtime conversation. Ianto holds the door open for her, and sweeps his gaze over the street one last time.

He never once mentions the note in his pocket.

* * *

><p>The office still smells of coffee and charred plastic. Ianto gags on it at first, fights back the rising nausea.<p>

"Where've you been?" Owen calls out. "Break time is over, time to get back to the real work."

"What would you like me to do, Owen?" Ianto asks, all innocence. "Make you some coffee?"

"Don't start," Tosh warns. "I've ordered us another. We'll just have to make do for a few days."

"It's Saturday," Owen says in a tone that would be a whine, coming from anyone else. "They won't ship until Monday, which means you can add a few days onto your few days."

"We could try taking the weekend off, like normal people," Ianto offers. This garners him two shocked looks. Ianto has never once suggested anything of the sort before, preferring to be working rather than sitting around uselessly at home.

"Oh god, he gave you his number, didn't he?" Owen moans. Tosh looks back and forth between the two of them.

"No," Ianto answers honestly.

"Who?" Tosh asks, looking at Owen. "Jack?"

"Captain Jack Harkness," the doctor drawls, mimicking Jack's accent. "Flirts with everything with two legs and a pulse- men, women, emus, teaboys."

"What do we know about him?" Ianto asks, moving over to Tosh's desk.

"American born. He had his name legally changed at eighteen, and the records are sealed. I didn't see how it was worth upsetting the Americans by being too nosy, so we don't know his birth name." Tosh taps a key and the printer behind Owen churns to life. "Attended the US Air Force Academy, graduated in the top of his class, made it to the rank of captain before receiving an honorable discharge."

"At twenty-seven," Owen says triumphantly, as if he has just won some major victory. "A career soldier and an officer. There's nothing wrong with him, so something went wrong, and someone used a lot of money to help him buy his way out of trouble."

"He disappeared after that and has been living mostly under the radar since," Tosh continues, ignoring Owen. "I could probably track him down, but to be honest, it's not worth the effort."

Ianto nods minutely in agreement, moves over to pick up the papers. The first line on the top page reads _Subject: Harkness, Jack. Captain._

"One last thing," Owen says. "What do we tell Rhys?"

"I'll handle that," Ianto offers. "No worries. And I'll get this sorted." He gestures with the papers.

"And this, please, Ianto," Tosh adds, kicking lightly at a box at her feet. Ianto nods and she pushes it out from under her desk. He tucks Jack's file into the box for easy carrying and heads for the lift.

He doesn't like lying to them, but he rationalizes it- it's not lying, it's omitting, and he'll tell them what they need to know as soon as he sorts it out himself.

As soon as the doors close, he puts the box down and takes the note out of his pocket. Not surprisingly, the message hasn't changed.

_The Plass, tomorrow night, six o'clock. Be there._

Ianto glances at his watch and blows his breath out.

Seven hours and counting.


End file.
